


i know that i'm evil.

by sshyksarry



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, BIG trigger warning for this one, Blood, Gen, Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshyksarry/pseuds/sshyksarry
Summary: In the end, it's Catra who kills Shadow Weaver.
Relationships: Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Catra/Adora (mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	i know that i'm evil.

**Author's Note:**

> (big trigger warning! please head the tags catra has mommy issues)

In the end, it’s Catra who kills Shadow Weaver. 

It doesn’t happen in some dramatic fight, not like Catra thought - and  _ imagined _ \- it would. It happens simply:

Shadow Weaver becomes injured in a fight, and Catra follows her back into The Whispering Woods. There isn’t much left of it since The Horde took over Brightmoon. It’s almost desolate; cold, empty, alone. A massive tank sits heaving in the centre of it, it’s husked bones littering the entirety of the forest.

It’s there that she finds her, leaning against it. 

She doesn’t rise from it when Catra arrives. But that’s expected; her side is torn and her arm is bleeding. She’s got a head wound and her mask is off and all those scars, pink and green and white, they’re all staring back at her. There’s so much sinew and muscle, Catra should look away.

But she doesn’t. She’s not sure why. 

“They aren’t looking for you,” She says.

Shadow Weaver sighs, her head falls back onto the trees stump. She runs her hand down the left side of her face, but there’s no scrubbing the blood away. Catra almost wishes she could name herself the source.

She continues, “Why would they be?”

Once, Catra would be afraid of her response; the subsequent backlash. The hot white light burn of lightning winding up her skin, that quick blinding flash of heat digging into her bones. But she’s older now. She’s not afraid. 

“You don’t matter to them.”

Shadow Weaver laughs lowly. She shifts to her right side and winds her hand down her face. She looks tired. “Neither do you.”

Catra frowns. “We aren’t talking about me.” 

“It’s always about you. 

Catra frowns harder. There’s an inkling of truth in that. She looks down at her hands, the congealed blood beneath her claws. She was fighting an hour ago, digging every piece of herself into Adora’s skin just to get under it. That was about her too. 

“You’re going to die, Shadow Weaver,” she says. 

“Am I?” 

Catra nods, she gets up. There’s an apple tree nearby. She spotted it earlier on her way in. She’s always wanted to try apples. She approaches it and climbs it, quickly, efficiently, and picks one. It blooms red in her palm. Shadow Weaver is still there when she gets down. 

She bites into it. It tastes sweet. And sour. She decides she likes it, and makes a note to get some brought into The Horde, later. 

When she sits back down again, Shadow Weaver speaks up. Her eyes trace Catra’s sleeve, her hair, the scar that burns her fingers, wrist, hand, arm, shoulder, clavicle, sternum;  _ body _ . “You’re just like me now,” she says. And she means the marks, Catra knows that; the dozens of lightning strikes shes left all over Catra’s skin, but Catra’s always known that - she’s always had them. She’s always been marred in some way. It’s always been just like Shadow Weaver to want to leave a mark. 

“Am I?” 

Shadow Weaver smiles; serpentine sweet. Another reminder. “Yes.”

“You always wanted me to be.”

“I wanted you to be better.”

Catra boils hot inside. She grits her teeth and presses the flesh of the apple against her palm tight enough to burst through the skin. “You didn’t raise me at all.” 

“Didn’t I?” Shadow Weaver coos, “Look at you, Catra, you’re a monster.” 

Catras chest burns. 

This part has always hurt. 

When she goes to leave, to not look back, Shadow Weaver reaches out a hand, brushes her thumb against Catra’s wrist. She’s paler than before. 

“Catra,” her chest rises and falls in fast succession. “Do me one last thing.”

She remembers this. 

“What?” 

“A drink,” she continues, “just one, from that river there.”

Catra looks behind her, over her shoulder and at the river. The water there is dirty and brown. It’s bed is green. Catra hears her squadron calling out for her, and she should head back soon, really, before anyone digs too deep into the forest. Shadow Weaver looks up at her, serpentine sweet again. 

Something forgotten pulls in her chest.

She tosses her apple, dusts her hands off on her pants and then does as shes asked. She lifts Shadow Weaver over to a nearby rock and helps prop her up against it. Shadow Weavers head thunks heavy against it, enough to leave a mark and enough to make her hiss. 

“Is that good enough?”

Shadow Weaver breathes out heavy. She doesn’t respond, not a single thing. Beside her, the river runs quietly. Almost a whisper. It could be peaceful, if Catra let it be. She could leave right here, right now, not do anything at all. Let go.

Shadow Weavers lips part. “A drink,” she says. 

Catra looks at the water and then at Shadow Weaver again. Something forgotten pulls in her chest. She thinks of a tender touch behind her ear, a hand brushing through her hair. Someone squeezing her so tight she can’t breathe. 

She looks away again, because, mostly, it hurts to see her. She licks at her teeth, listens to the river water and rises, grabbing a large leaf lying on the rivers bank and scooping water into it’s centre. It pools there, bobbing left and right as she carries it back over to Shadow Weaver.

Once she reaches her, Shadow Weaver tilts her chin up and Catra helps her drink it. Shadow Weaver sighs. Catra falls back and waits. 

The forest is silent.

“Not going to thank me?”

“Why would I, Catra?” 

A long time ago, Catra might’ve begged her for it. She might’ve asked and asked and done all she could to get it. A long time ago Catra ached. A long time ago her wounds were always open, and she was always bleeding out. 

Now: “I’m going to kill you,” she says, instead, and rises. And means it. 

“Good,” Shadow Weaver replies, dry and long drawn out in the throat. Her head flops to the side of the rock and she rests her cheek on it’s face.“You have no reason not to.”

Catra hesitates. Shadow Weaver notices. She laughs. 

“Was it like this with her, too?” She asks and Catra grits her teeth and clicks her jaw. Her hand hovers over her whip. “When you killed Adora.” 

“Stop it.”

“Did she beg you not to?” 

“I said stop.” Catra’s hand tenses, she raises her whip - 

“Did you think she loved you?” She goes on, “ _ Did you think I did _ ?” 

And brings it down. 

Shadow Weaver doesn’t make a sound.

Neither does Catra. 

*****

Catra stays long after Shadow Weaver stops moving. She tucks herself under her arm and cries, but it doesn’t come out right. She presses her hand to her own and sits motionless; stagnant. 

She pretends there’s still something alive there to hold onto. 

**Author's Note:**

> title is from julien bakers 'even' i've been wanting to use it for a long time and finally got to :)


End file.
